


Letters To Nobody

by FallenBridesmaid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol dependency, Cas is dead, Cutting, Dean has feelings okay, Germany vs. America, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Sam is MIA, Self Harm, Suicidal Ideation, War AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:56:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenBridesmaid/pseuds/FallenBridesmaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Germany had far more men fighting on the frontlines than Dean did. The states weren't really willing to give up anymore for a Winchester to lead into battle. And so, Dean was limited to the few soldiers he had gotten. </p>
<p>Dean fell ungracefully onto his cot and dug under his pillow. Besides his pistol, the only other thing under there was an old, leather bound journal. He pulled it out and flipped it open, carefully avoiding tearing the pages. He grabbed a pencil from one of the pockets on his shirt and began writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RainbowNinjaSock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowNinjaSock/gifts).



Private Dean Winchester strode into his tent with all the determination of a four year old girl. He was weary from the long day of planning strategies for the war that was waging between the states and Germany. Unsurprisingly, they were losing. That's what happens when you leave a greif-stricken Winchester in charge. Germany had an excellent war general, even if it was a chick, Meg Masters. They had a better army than Dean had too. On their side was Crowley, Lucifer, Lilith, and every other hell raiser out there. Fighting for the states was Dean, John, Rufus, Ellen and Jo, Ash, Jody Mills,Gabriel, and a few other heroes. Germany had far more men fighting on the frontlines than Dean did. The states weren't really willing to give up anymore for a Winchester to lead into battle. And so, Dean was limited to the few soldiers he had gotten.

Dean fell ungracefully onto his cot and dug under his pillow. Besides his pistol, the only other thing under there was an old, leather bound journal. He pulled it out and flipped it open, carefully avoiding tearing the pages. He grabbed a pencil from one of the pockets on his shirt and began writing.

March 19th, 2015

Dear Bobby,   
Sam still hasn't come back to base yet. Rufus keeps saying that he's probably been kidnapped by Meg and her demons or else left for dead in a ditch somewhere. I usually just throw something and he shuts up. It's nonsense, thinking Sam was captured. Isn't it? Sammy isn't that stupid. He wouldn't let that happen to him. I probably would be dumb enough to walk right into enemy territory but not Sam. He'll turn up sooner or later, right?

Dean Winchester

Dean closed the journal carefully and bound the strap before pushing it back under his pillow. He done this every night, it was a routine he had had for about four years now. He'd come in, lay down, and write a letter to Bobby or even Cas. Bobby had been dead since 2011 but who says the dead can't read? Dean had never been religious but he knew Bobby wouldn't leave just because he was dead. He didn't trust Dean not to fuck shit up. So Dean wrote him every night and it helped him sleep, knowing that just maybe Bobby had read his letters.


	2. Chapter 2

You see, Dean had a daytime routine too now. Since about six months ago, he had taken to drinking vast amounts of alcohol throughout the day to keep him on his feet. Dean knew that it wasn't considered healthy. Or safe, considering there was a war waging just a few hours from their base. But he was depressed and he needed his mind to be rid of the man he was trying to forget.

Six months, three days, three hours. That's how long Dean has had to live with half of his soul missing. The whole damn ordeal was designed to mock him. Meg had lured Cas away while they were out scouting one night. She made him call Dean to tell him to meet him about an hour away from the base. Since it was Cas, Dean had gone willingly. Looking back on it, he still would've gone if he had to do it all over. No matter what, Cas was first in Dean's life since Sam was AWOL.

Dean had followed Cas' instructions and met him at an abandoned warehouse. Dean walked right into it when he heard the man calling his name. He wished he hadn't. The scene that met him when he walked in was permanently etched into his mind. Cas was strung up by his feet, naked,hanging from the ceiling. There were puddles of blood underneath him, from where it had dripped down off of his face. His body was littered with cuts and gashes and bruises blossomed all across his exposed torso. He'd been beaten and tortured by Meg and Lucifer for information on him, which Meg taunted him about later. Dean soon found out that staring at Cas wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part came when Crowley cut the rope, causing Cas to drop like a weight. He landed right at Dean's feet.   
Dean didn't even need to check to see if he was dead. The sickening crack as his skull split open was enough for him. As blood poured from his head, Castiel's glossy eyes stared unseeingly up at Dean. Somewhere behind him, Meg cackled evilly.

"That's pathetic!" Meg laughed. "You! You're supposedly what we're up against? You couldn't even save one little soldier, let alone a whole nation!" She taunted. Dean hadn't responded, he'd just sank to his knees beside his angel, not even caring that his blood was staining his uniform.

"I'm so sorry Cas. I failed you. I fell into the trap and you got caught in the line of fire." Dean apologized to the mangled body of his boyfriend. "I'm so sorry."  
Tears fell from his eyes and Meg just continued to throw insults and taunts. Even went as far as to mention Sam.

"How do you know we didn't do worse to wittle Sammy? I mean he's been gone for what? Two, Three months now?" She asked. "That's plenty of time for Azazel and Lucifer to have had tons of fun with him." Meg has cackled. At this point, Dean hadn't thought he could take anymore of it. He barely had the strength to get up off the blood stained ground.

"You're so pathetic. You aren't even worth killing. You'll probably take care of that yourself soon enough anyhow." Crowley spat from above on one of the hanging beams.

"He's right. We'll let you go scot free. You can even take your faggot ass boyfriend's body back with you." Meg laughed.   
Dean sank back down beside Cas and shakily lifted his body into his arms. He retreated back to their base, carrying him bridal style. When he'd staggered in through the gates, he collapsed to his knees in front of Ellen and Rufus, no longer having the strength to stand. Ellen had gasped and helped him back to his tent, muttering reassurances in his ear and left him on his cot. Dean had passed out from exhaustion long before they made it that far. Rufus had cleaned up Cas' body by the time Dean woke up the next day. The whole camp had left Dean alone to give him a proper send off. He laid him in a clearing and set him alight. He'd stood there for hours, just watching his body burn. Too caught up memories of better times and plans of revenge, he didn't even notice it had grown dark. So once again, somebody hauled his ass back to the tent.   
Those were two of the worst days of Dean's life. The worst part? He relived them every single night.


	3. Chapter 3

So he drank. And he drank. And he drank some more. Nobody stopped him, they could all practically feel the pain and greif emanating from him. Today was one of the days where he spent the whole time in Rufus' tent and drank his whole trunk full of liquor. Somehow he found his way back to his own tent and to his cot. He clumsily pulled out his journal and in shaky handwriting, began to write.

Dear Cas,

I miss you so fucking much. It hurts to breathe without you here anymore. Every night, I'm haunted by nightmares of your death. I know it's my fault. They killed you for information on me. Truth be told, there probably wasn't anything useful that you told them. So in other terms, you died for nothing. Fantastic. Your death was pointless because I'm pointless. I'm sorry I didn't get there in time to save you. I hate myself every day for failing you. I've been drowning for so long now, I can barely breathe. Losing you is one of the worst things to happen to me. I've been overwhelmed by greif and it sits on my chest like a giant boulder, crushing me, forcing the air out of my lungs. I'm drowning in it. Everyday I try to forget you by drinking until I can barely see straight but it doesn't work. I could never forget someone as perfect as you. You'll hate me for it but I may be coming to join you soon. Maybe. I can't leave Sammy, but if he doesn't come back, I'm getting Rufus to shoot me.

I love you,  
Dean

Dean wiped furiously at his face, trying to stop the onslaught of tears that came pouring out as he wrote. He closed the journal, bound it, and hid it back under the pillow before falling back onto it. Regretfully, he closed his eyes and waited to see himself fail all over again.

Dean woke up the next morning feeling like shit, but that was nothing new. His head pounded in rhythm with his heartbeat and he really didn't want to get up today but there it is. His daily reminder that he has something left to fight for, an image of Sam rushed to the forefront of his mind and Dean forced himself up out of bed. He got as far as the flap of his tent before he remembered to change clothes and fill up his flask. And so he went back, three on another camouflage uniform-he ignored the fact that he took it from Cas' trunk because why the hell not, Cas isn't there to wear it anymore- and poured the remnants of last night's Jack Daniels into his flask. He even put the stupid military cap on his head, as much as he hates the thing, before finally heading out into the world.

John met him at the breakfast hall and stopped him at the door. One look and John could tell his son wasn't any closer to being okay than he was three months ago. Wordlessly, he pulled Dean into a strong embrace and Dean didn't even try to pretend he didn't need it. He relaxed into the embrace instinctively and they stood like that until John was sure Dean could make it through the day with only two bottles of liquor instead of his usual binge of six.

"Are you okay now? I mean really okay?" John questioned, stepping back to look his son over like he used to do when Dean was little and got hurt playing with Sammy. Dean nodded numbly, a forced smile on his lips. John knew it was all a facade but nodded his approval anyway. Dean walked out of the hall, all thought of breakfast gone. He headed straight back to his tent and retrieved his journal before tucking it safely in his pocket. The soldier walked to the meeting hall and waited silently for an hour before the rest of his men come in from the mess hall.

They discussed strategies again but not before Chuck had taken the liberty of announcing that Germany had taken over France and now a thousand more deaths were hanging over their heads. This news did nothing to improve Dean's mood but the meeting carried on. They decided that until someone from enemy lines crossed into their territory, they would refrain from making their presence known. Nobody replied to Dean's bitter mention of, "They know we're here. They fucking killed Cas because they knew we were here."

Ellen only sent him to go be lookout with a stern look of 'don't you dare disobey me,boy'. Dean left the meeting hall begrudgingly and took to his post in the tree. Lookout is the easiest job to have, as nothing ever comes near their base. So Dean just sat and watched the clouds for awhile before he grew bored. He took out his journal and started flipping through the pages, trying to find something happier to focus on rather than torture himself with Cas' death and Sam's disappearance. He flipped through the entries written in pencil and black ink before he came to a rather short entry written in stunning red ink.

June 13th, 2010

Today is the best day of my life! I'm officially a married man and its to the man of my dreams! Bobby married us a few hours ago, he got all dressed up and slicked his hair back and everything. Sam wouldn't stop fussing over my suit until after the music started and even then I could still hear him muttering about it. Chuck walked Cas down the aisle and Balthazar made some smart as remarks. Nobody except close friends were there and Dad of course. We were married at a nice church in Kansas and everybody cried out of happiness for us. I couldn't complain about the bit where we kissed because we practically made out in front of everyone. They didn't want to see that though but they clapped anyhow. Sam swore up and down afterwards that he did /not/ cry for us but I saw him sobbing like a baby after the I dos were said. Gotta go, Cas wants to get going with the honeymoon.

I love this man,  
Dean Winchester-Novak

Dean definitely wasn't crying by the time he finished reading it. He remembered the day as if it were yesterday but he knew deep inside that it was over four years ago. Because everyone important in his life was there and they're all gone by now. Cas and Bobby are both dead and Sam's MIA but it was nice to pretend.

Their honeymoon had been fantastic, if Dean does say so himself. They had went to a beach in North Carolina-couldn't go to Hawaii because you can't drive the impala on water and Dean wasn't going on a plane- and had stayed a whole week there. They'd laid on the beach listening to the waves crashing against the shore in a steady lull as the counted stars during the nights and they'd fucked in the beachouse every day. It was all Dean had dreamt it to be like. Back then, he never thought he would lose his husband after only five years of marriage.

That's what drove him to do what he did next. The nagging voice that kept telling him he'll never get to experience those things ever again just wouldn't stop reminding him. He put the journal back in his pocket and stalked away from the base to a stream twenty minutes away. He got down on his knees and pulled out his pocket knife. With the knife flipped open, Dean submerged his arm into the water and slid the knife across his skin. He made the first slice at the crook of his elbow to see if he could stand the pain. He couldn't even feel it. So he made another one, and another, and a few more after that. By the time he was finished, there were jagged cuts going all down his arm, each one getting longer and deeper as they got lower down. Before he put the knife down, he made two more cuts. An X right over his pulse point. He watched the blood float downstream and vaguely wondered if anyone would see it and come looking. He let the cuts stop bleeding on their own, long after his arm was numb from the cold water. The blood washed from his blade easily and in no time, he was back on his feet and heading towards the base. He doesn't even need to clean his arm because the wounds have stopped their bleeding. His arm wasn't wet anymore,it dried in the wind, so Dean pulled the sleeve of Cas' uniform down and it's like the cuts didn't even happen.

When he got back to base, it was noon and so he headed to the mess hall and ate lunch with Rufus like the incident at the stream never happened. And if everyone noticed how Dean's shoulders seem to have lost some of their tension, they didn't say anything. John was just happy to see that it had been six hours since Dean   
got up and he was still sober.


End file.
